APARTMENT 204
by Mrryl-Lord of Shaded Dreams
Summary: When the residents of apartment 204 are 'besieged' by an army of Zombies, James Isaac, the apartment loser, is left with saving it and everyone in it. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW PLEASE?


*** This is my first fanfic, but don't go easy, alright?*** --- I am 16 years old, I just finished reading "Teacher's Experiment" and am kinda bored, so I decided to write an RE fanfic of my own, probably not as good as Ginger Ninja's, but I hope you enjoy it enough to maybe review it? But yeah, if the 'newest horror game' title sounds too familiar, that's because that is what a government reviewer had called it when he asked for the game to be made illegal (in Greece or Italy, I can't remember which) and the fact that he messed up on the name was the only reason it didn't succeed.---  
  
--Apartment 204, NIGHT , 12:00 PM, MONDAY.  
  
My name is James Isaac, I'm a 34 year old man. My world was the usual alcoholic bachelors, lived in an apartment, went to work at a crappy job. I drank when I came home, played videogames on my spare time (which was plentiful). I had no girlfriend, I had NO ONE. I lived in Apartment 204 in Raccoon City, sixth floor, apartment 05. One night, after taking a break from playing the newest horror game, "Resident of Evil Creek", I went out onto my high-up balcony for a smoke, take the adrenaline outta my nerves. What I saw transpire at that moment scared me to death, I had to check 5 times before I realized it wasn't just my tired eyes playing tricks on me, illusions brought on by the freakiest game I had ever played. What I saw outside, walking down the street, was a shambling horde of THINGS. They ambushed a bus stop full of people, I could hear their screams, and I saw many lights turn on in the apartment buildings across the way and knew, undoubtedly, that many people were being awoken in my own apartment as well. "Hey, J, what the hell is that? It looks like a group of cannibals are feastin' on them there people! What're we gonna do?" at first the voice startled James, but then he just realized it was "Old Man George" a somewhat grumpy of fart who hung out with James and always provided some good conversation, not to mention a good game of chess. George was known for being a paranoid old man, speaking as if Death was a living, breathing, prowling entity. There hadn't been many nights that George hasn't kicked open his door, double-barrel twelve gauge shotgun loaded, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Get outta here, you can't have me yet!" I thought for a moment, then said, "I guess the only thing we can do is-"I stopped in mid sentence, the gang of cannibals stopped eating the bus-stoppers, he could almost see them looking up, the doors of the bus opening up, the tired old bus driver letting in his passengers, they filed on the bus, I closed my eyes, screams began and I could almost see in my head the maniacs killing everyone on the bus, which was strangely loaded for this time of night. When I opened my eyes the cannibals had spread throughout the bus, the screams continuing. What made me gasp in fear and nearly piss myself in terror, however, was that the people who had been eaten at the bus stop had gotten up, groaning and moaning as they filed onto the bus to join the feast. I shouted up the George, "Go and tell everyone to meet in the lobby, tell them to bring along any weapons they can carry, be it a gun, or simply a table leg, only those who can fight, everyone else should stay inside; tell them to LOCK THEIR DOORS, also, tell them if they want to make it through the night, or until help comes, they won't barricade themselves with their families, they'll meet me in the lobby with a weapon." George shuffled away from the balcony, I could hear his slippers scuffing the cold cement. Seconds later George went back onto his balcony, asking, "What do I say if they tell me to go away?" I thought for a few seconds, then said in a totally calm, matter-of-fact tone, "Tell them that if they don't help, Death has come to collect them."  
  
--Apartment 204, NIGHT , 1:00 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
I don't know what made me say the last bit that left my mouth before George had walked off, muttering to himself. I almost laughed out loud as I heard the only too familiar 'click' of the shotgun. You see, as I stay up late at night, I can actually hear George get ready for his usual antic of bashing open his door and shouting. I went back to my gaming console, shutting it off, than swearing at myself for not saving, I had just killed a big freaky monster in the game and it took me 2 hours to do it. "Oh well, I guess that I have some REAL freaks to kill now..." I walked into my bedroom, going for the only noteworthy weapon I had in the only house: an almost overly long machete, it had a sharp edge, he often used it for cutting steak and the odd tough fruit, he never thought that he would have to use it for an actual weapon, which was its original purpose. I bought it to defend myself, Apartment 204 wasn't in the most secure part of Raccoon City, the only reason I hadn't been robbed yet was because of Old Man George, once when I just moved here I heard someone trying to climb up onto my balcony, to rob me obviously, but before I could grab something for defense, I didn't have my machete at that point, George came out onto the balcony, raving and screaming about 'climbing devils' and stuck his revolver over the side of the balcony, unloaded all 8 chambers and went back inside, needless to say, whoever was trying to rob I never tried it again. The next day I went over to his apartment, bringing along a bottle of wine and some cooked steak, we met and talked for a bit. Ever since then we get together every Friday and talk, either playing games over here or playing chess or something else at his place. Anyways, as I grabbed the machete, the familiar smooth wooden handle felt oddly reassuring. I raced downstairs, yelling and knocking on doors. I told everyone to meet at the lobby, and to bring a weapon, regardless of what it was, and to alert every door they passed. When we reached the lobby, some people were already there. George was looking outside, his shotgun in his hands and his revolver in its placement on his leg, he also had a sawed off shotgun and a colt 1911, standard police issue. He handed those to me, I stuck my machete in it's sheath on my waist. I thanked him, saying, "Keep your eyes on those things outside, tell me if any head this way." He acknowledged the request with a nod and I turned to the assembled group, which grew quickly, some people only had knives or baseball bats, others had guns, ranging from an old WW1 flint pistol, toted by Miss Morgan, an historian who loved said era, to an M16, wielded by Winston Degunn, an old military veteran who had seen a lot of battles. The oddest grouping of weapons was from the 'Basement Crew', a group of construction workers who crashed in the basement of the apartments. They all had packers (heavy, iron rods with a flat surface on the end, for packing earth.) to nail guns. The rarest, however, was an ancient nodachi wielded by Mr. Masanuki, a Japanese man whom had a family, taught kendo classes at a nearby community center. The crowd assembled and I began my speech, "Hello everyone, if you'll all just shut up for a minute I can explain why your awoken at this godless," that made me almost laugh, "hour, there are a huge gang of cannibalistic people outside, they might try to get in here, what's worse, whoever they eat seems to join them on their crusade of horror." This brought angry cries of, "YOUR CRAZY!" to "What are you talking about, man?" I knew they wouldn't listen to me, everyone knew that I was a drunk, and that I played horror games, I had prepared for the instance of them thinking I was just drunk and having delusions. But now that the moment had come, I forgot what I was going to say, so I just said this: "Listen, I know I'm a drunk, and totally unbelievable, but you all heard the cries of terror that just occurred outside, no one can deny that, I saw what the hell happened to them, I'm telling you, they are out there, WE HAVE TO PREPARE, they're coming people! We have to bar the doors, hold out until help comes!" this made a few people believe me, then another woman, Miss Henson, a highly responsible and friendly person, said, "I can vouch for you James, I saw it all from the roof, they ate those poor people! It was horrible!" This made everyone believe me, as Miss Henson has never lied, she also gave people a break from paying rent when they couldn't afford it. She was the Landlord. The Basement Crew immediately heaved their bench up from under them, carrying it over to the big entrance window, and nailed it in place. This brought other people into action, and seconds later all first floor windows were boarded closed.  
  
--Apartment 204, NIGHT , 1:30 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
Nearly half an hour later Miss Henson radioed in from the roof, saying, "My God, there are so many of them! They're heading your way. You should get ready!" I yelled out, "They're coming, remember, we stay together, only run if I, or George, gives the order, don't run otherwise, just keep shooting, or wait until they get close if you don't have a gun, hopefully we'll kill them all now, then we can go back to bed..." But I was wrong, I watched them break open the glass double-doors, they weren't even human anymore, most had pieces of their bodies gone, dragging entrails behind them, some still looked relatively human, like one little boy, his black hair was only beginning to fall from his head, his eyes were pure white, his mouth open, drool dripping down his mouth. I shot him in the head, it exploded all over the things behind him, his lifeless corpse fell to the ground almost gratefully it seemed. Thank God I hate kids. George was nearly hallucinating, he saw every one of those freaks as a personal death come to claim him, he shot one of them full in the chest, ripping a hole through it, then unloaded a shot from his revolver in it's head when it kept coming. We lost a few of the people who came, mostly the poor Basement Crew, who fought with a battle lust that seemed to spur the rest of us on. My machete had become useful, I shot 3 things all at once, shot the three behind them, then drew my machete, severing the head and arms of the one directly behind them. The cannibals were too numerous, we retreated up to the second floor, barricading the doors with a refrigerator and a couch. We left the dead in the lobby, we didn't have time to get them. I can hear them banging on the doors, Miss Henson keeps radioing in and saying that the things keep coming, she can see a large number of them, they disappear down the street. I think this is a resistance I cannot win...  
  
--Apartment 204, DAY , 3:00 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
The freaks broke through the barricade, another little battle ensued, we retreated back up to the next level, leaving the dead, but bringing the wounded that could still walk, we performed 'Seppuku', which is what Mr. Masanuki said was a ritual suicide that samurai did to rid themselves of any huge dishonor they did, we do it just so that the wounded don't have to feel the things feast upon them. The samurai did it by slitting their bellies open, then they would have a Second cut of their head before they dishonored themselves by screaming in pain. Everyone had agreed to do it, as a mercy, if they couldn't continue or would slow someone down. They would slit their throat instead, and I, yes I, was elected as everyone's 'Second', as I was the only person with a single-handed long bladed weapon. So now, since I had to do it for three people on the 2nd floor, I am referred to as the "Executioner". It pisses me off, they think it's easy? Damn them to He- No, they don't deserve that, we're living in something a lot like it. We have to be, nothing could possibly be worse than this! We keep asking Miss Henson about the situation, she says that he entire host of whatever is going to be in here, is here, nothing else is coming down the street. I scrubbed my hands bloody, the blood that was on before was the 3 people I 'saved' one of the people was a kid, he actually thanked me, said I 'saved' him. That made me feel worse than if he had spit on me and cursed my name. I can't believe this! I was supposed to go to work today, but I won't have to, I blew my own boss to pieces with my sawed off! I looked at him, the asshole, refused my raise! I think that my co-workers would have applauded me, had I not had to blow one of them to ribbons with the next shot. George seems to be the only one here who benefits from this, he is no longer a paranoid old man, he has seen death, it's jaws and moans and hands had reached for his throat, and he blew it to shit! He no longer slouches, he speaks without a nervous glance behind himself, he now has something to focus on that could kill him. I never did ask him why he was so paranoid. I should do that soon. We have barricaded ourselves in the 3rd floor hall, some people who hadn't come out earlier are now outside, offering drinks and food to the unwounded, and assistance to the wounded. No one resents the fact that they didn't have to see the evil on the first two floor, after they were done, we sent them on to the next floor, told them to get a barricade ready and to get anyone who hasn't come out yet, out. Damn, I could go for a shot of beer right now. I can taste it, but I don't want it, if I'm going to die by one group of demons, I will die being free of the other! --Apartment 204, DAY , 3:30 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
We now have a name for the things, one of the teenagers, a 15 year old name Dean McScott, called them 'Zombies' the term just stuck. Miss Henson has stopped radioing in, I should go check on her soon, something doesn't smell right, but she might've just fallen asleep in the stairwell or something. I had a talk with George before the Zombies broke through the barricade again, I asked him why he was so paranoid, he said this, "Well, my wife was murdered by a man who scrawled on the walls, in her blood, 'Death came calling' so I've always been afraid the same thing would happen to me, I was out working that night so I couldn't save her, but they got the guy, I'm still scared. How are you doing, James? I've noticed how you are looking more sure of yourself, you seem better..." I didn't want to talk about it though. I shot some more Zombies today, I'm almost out of ammo with my sawed off, so now I'm mostly using my Colt. I had to 'Second' 3 more people, and the wounded are looking worse, they are getting really pale and they keep scratching themselves, coughing and choking on air it seems. I think these Zombies carry some sort of plague, they're rotten enough to bring about the Black Death again... I don't like this, my machete is stained red and black... that was the last thing I wanted to use it for, killing comrades-in-arms! But I have no other choice. My shift on the barricade is on, I hope they don't break through while I'm watching them.  
  
--Apartment 204, DAY , 4:30 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
We lost another floor, it seemed like the Zombies just gave up, but all of a sudden the barricade creaked and exploded into a thousand splinters, I still have some in my hands and arms. The splinters alone killed 2 of the sentries, one huge piece caught Winston Degunn in the neck, killing him instantly, I picked up his M16, and his backpack, which was full of clips. He didn't need it anymore. The thing that blew open the door wasn't a normal Zombies, it was HUGE! Almost twice my size and could take two clips from the M16 before going down, all the shots were in its head. I retreated, the other single sentry, a kid named Vince, had snatched Winston's Uzi, holding it close to himself. I told him to be careful with it, don't shoot anybody who was breathing. His reply: "But even the Zombies are breathing, they have to breath to be able to moan." Smart ass. The fire- fight was longer this time, people didn't want to lose anymore ground to the Zombies, so they fought for all they were worth, we sent a kid to the top floor to call the cops, check if they were gonna help, we haven't heard from him since. I HAVE TO CHECK OUT WHAT'S GOING ON UP THERE! I told George to hold the fort while I went to take a look, he agreed and I left. I have steeled myself for whatever I might find up there, be it a new demon, or merely sleeping people. I only have 10 rounds left, which means 20 shots, with the sawed off. I still have 12 clips with the colt, and I have countless clips for the M16, a backpack full, at least 20. This is where the recounting of the tale ends, and the living it begins...  
  
--Apartment 204, DAY , 5:00 AM, TUESDAY. (PRESENT TIME)  
  
I walk up the stairs, my footsteps echoing on the cement steps beneath me, there is a cold draft coming from the tower of endless stairs, I'm on the 4th floor, the last floor is 10th, the kid is on the tenth and Miss Henson is on the roof. I slowly walk up the stairs, sawed off in hand. I reach the 10th floor quickly, nervousness gripping me as I run up the steps. When I reach the 10th floor the door to the roof lies open, letting in rain and cold air. I look around, and then I finally notice the kid, "Oh no..." the kid was all over the place, his sundered head was near the door, near my feet, his arm, which looked like it had been torn off, lay near the roof door, his torso, which had a huge gaping hole where his lungs and heart should be, was in the middle of the room. The rest of him was either little chunks on the red carpet, or missing. I then realized something, the carpet was red, it was supposed to be white... the kids blood covered most of the plush carpet and the walls, the white rose wallpaper turned into a deep red from the unfortunate childs blood. I creep towards the roof door, nearly vomiting from the sound of the squish as I walk across the blood-wet carpet. The roof was a different sight, it was devoid of life, I call out, "Miss Henson, are you alright?" Of course she's not alright, what a stupid fucking question! I should've come up sooner, or sent someone to watch the poor woman. But where was she? I crept across the roof, listening for a sound of moaning, or shuffling feet, anything that I could tell what happened to her, the fact that I couldn't only scared me worse. "Damnit, why did I have to play that damn game? I wouldn't be as scared right now, I would just look around, then find something or not, but right now I just want to lay down on the floor and will my heart to stop beating." I whisper to myself. I walk over to the edge of the roof, looking down, I see a body, massacred by long jagged claw marks, reminded me of a cat after a hawk got its hands on it. Miss Henson's corpse was missing its stomach, and was laying in a pool of its own blood, but at least it was dead. I listened to the rain, it fell in strong torrents, bouncing off the roof... and something else. I remember my thoughts of a hawk just as I felt more then heard the air currents created by a swooping creature, I leapt to the side, wickedly sharp talons catching my shirt shoulder and ripping it to shreds, "If that had been my actual shoulder..." The thought sent a shiver of fear through my body, but it was too late for fear, I would kill the thing that did that to Miss Henson, be it alive or be it dead, my bullet would entomb itself in its head! I got up, running to the center of the roof. I scanned the skies, I didn't now what I was looking for but I thought I would recognize a Demon- Bird from Hell when I saw it. I did. It was long, sleek, and jet-black. It looked at me with blazing eyes, at least it wasn't a Zombies. It looked at me as a hawk would look at a mouse or cat, merely food. It resembled a hawk as well, long wings, a beak, and of course, those razor-talons. I raised my sawed-off just as it dive-bombed me, I pulled the trigger and everything seemed to go in slow motion. I saw my pellets fly from my sawed- off, ripping into the Demon-Hawk's side and right wing, the spread was too big though, it didn't slow down. I waited another millisecond and pulled the trigger again, sending my second payload into the demon. It screamed, much as a hawk does when you shoot it with a rifle. The Demon-Hawk hit the roof with a thud, most of its entire right side missing from the close spread of the sawed off. I almost smiled, but began crying, it felt like killing an animal, that's all it was, probably, a mutated hawk, turned into a demon by some curse or something. I reloaded my sawed-off, walked up to it, pulled out my colt, and fired four shots into it's head, ending it quickly. I then headed down the stares, the tears streaming down my face. I need some rest.  
  
--Apartment 204, DAY , 5:30 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
I headed back down stares, and was greeted at the 5th floor. We apparently lost a floor. I looked for George, who had a big smear of blood on his face, I didn't ask whos. He had some interesting news for me: "Our wounded changed, into THEM! The damn Zombies claim our wounded after working so hard to keep them alive... I don't know what to do. I ordered that everyone who had been wounded to come with me into a side room. I shot every last one of them, they were grouped together and I just pointed and pulled the trigger. It wasn't easy... oh the eyes, I'll never forget the eyes. It was those damn traitors, the wounded, the made us lose the last floor, they attacked us from the rear, we fought them off, but the Zombies attacked us from the back. We ran like sheep, we lost so many last floor, and now we know that all those people we lost have turned into one of them!" I pondered this for a while. My head hurts, I hope this ends soon. I told George about Miss Henson and the kid. I told them all. We all looked at each other, most grieved, Miss Henson was a good person, she never deserved her fate. The kid was homeless, his parents had already died in the early attacks, one of the other people said they knew him and told us that he was. We are now down to 40 people, too many have died, nearly 100. I laugh, nearly hysterical. My mind forms a picture, a warm day, a glass in juice in hand reading a good book. THAT is what he wanted to do, not this shit! This has only one possible ending: EVERYONE HERE IS GOING TO DIE.  
  
--Apartment 204, DAY , 6:00 AM, TUESDAY.  
  
It is nearly morning, the Night of Horror is drawing to a close. I just don't believe that it ends this way. "Well, George, it's your turn!" I pull the trigger, George explodes into a wave of blood. I slam shut the door. But the Zombies brush against it, moaning and groaning for my flesh. The last half hour has been a complete blood bath. George was wounded when his gun jammed, the Zombie ripped out a chunk of his neck, we fled to the next floor, me, Mr. Masanuki, George, and a few other survivors. We barricaded the door as best as possible. Seconds after it was barricaded though, the big bastard was back, he destroyed the door and slammed a massive fist into one of the survivors, Vince, as he shot off his Uzi. Vince seemed to mold around the Super-Zombie's fist, every bone seemed broken, his body fell to the floor, lifeless. Mr. Masanuki charged the Super-Zombie, cutting it across the chest with his notched, bloody nodachi, but the Super-Zombie just shrugged it off, slammed his fist into Masanuki's head, crushing his skull. I pulled everyone back, my room was at the end of the hall. I unleashed my M16, it rattled the Super-Zombie full of holes, and it's horde of minions. I cursed the damn bastards, George shot off his shotgun, killing a score of Zombies. I drew my colt and unloaded the clip into the Super-Zombie, it just turned around and left. Then George began to 'Zombify', he and the other Zombies killed the others, I ran to my room as their screams echoed down the hallway. So here I am now, the M16 in my hands, the ammo-less sawed-off discarded on the floor. My colt in my pocket, my machete still in its sheathe. The moaning continued, I used the bolt lock and then barricaded the door with my bed, destroyed my floor by dragging my fridge over to the door, and put my TV and everything else I could manage into the hallway, holding the door shut, I am writing this even now with a pencil and a paper, hoping that I won't be forgotten, or anyone I know, especially poor George. I guess Death finally found him. So after I finish writing this, I won't let them have me, I'll go onto the balcony and use my machete one last time, stab, quick and clean, up through the chin, Mr. Masanuki said that was how Ninja committed Seppuku, they did it so that they didn't need a second and they couldn't be safe, once the blade touches my brain, I'll be dead... they're still knocking on the door... why won't they stop? I know have the blade against my throat, up under my chin. "The Sun looks so beautiful today..." says James as he thrusts upwards, into blackness...  
  
---There you go, sorry if it kinda freaked some of you out, I wrote this Sunday, April 04, 2004. I started it at around 9:00, finished it at very nearly 1:00(12:58). I scared myself writing this, I want to be a Fantasy author, but if this is good I'll also try some horror. SO, WHAT DID YOU THINK? By the way, the bit about Seppuku was true, as was MOST of the other stuff, the "Siper-Zombie" was the Nemesis form RE2, I hate that guy. The Demon-Hawk is... something I made up, as far as I know. But yeah, if you're reading this, thank you very much! Now how am I gonna sleep tonight?--- 


End file.
